


a prince, a man

by haatomune



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haatomune/pseuds/haatomune
Summary: “You are no longer simply your own man.”





	a prince, a man

**Author's Note:**

> Friend asked for fluff, but my brain shut down and decided not to listen.

Chrom doesn’t know how to indulge; it comes with the responsibility of being born of royalty, of having a younger sister who knows and has no qualms in reminding him who’s _actually_ the boss around here, of being thrust into war, into the position of leader – not that he’s complaining.  He doesn’t _have_ grounds to complain.  He’s been born into the role, something long decided before he even took his first breath.

That’s why, when he finally encounters something out of the ordinary – something different from within the castle walls and his Shepherds – he pounces on it.  He acts before he thinks any deeper; if he gives any more thought Frederick will have stopped him.

Luckily, his instincts are usually good enough that he’s never really brought back trouble for anyone.

Maybe, except this time.

Chrom looks at the bedraggled lump on the ground that he’s offering his hand to.  Frederick’s going a mile a minute behind him, muttering how this is a terrible idea and they should call for reinforcements instead.  Chrom ignores him – which surely will earn him another earful afterwards – and when this stranger opens his mouth, Chrom decides he’s made the right choice after all, and any lecture from Frederick will be worth it.

Robin is his name, he learns later.

On the battlefield time and again, he’s thankful that Robin is on his side and not someone he has to fight against.  Although they’ve decided to put Robin’s amnesia to rest for now, his innate battle skills never fail to impress Chrom.  It’s like tactics and magic were ingrained into something deeper than his memory, muscle memory channeling through his weapon and leading them to victory.

Exhaustion and grime follow their footsteps back to their tents.  Chrom pauses outside of his, looking back at his fellow Shepherds, silently thanking Lissa and Maribelle and Libra for checking up on everyone’s injuries one more time before turning in.  He ducks under the tent flap and wrestles off his armor.  He grimaces at the state of his clothes; they’ve definitely seen better days.  In a split second, Chrom is out of his tent again, heading towards the nearby river, intent on washing himself up along with his garments in the shortest possible time.

He stops short, just before the clearing. 

It’s not like it’s the first time he’s seen someone bared.  No, he’s seen more than his fair share of naked torsos.  But he struggles all the same, at the sight of Robin as relaxed as someone can be under constant threat of Risens attacks.  Hundreds of thoughts flood through Chrom’s mind but none of them do this sight justice, and he opts to just stay in the shadows of the trees until Robin makes his way out of the water and back to the tent.

He’s so, so lucky that his gasp is masked by the rustling of the leaves.

Needless to say, he remains just as dirty as the previous night, and Lissa gives him a weird look in the morning, too pointedly for his liking.  He ignores that too, certain that whatever it is he’s feeling will pass.

It does pass, but in the opposite way he wants.  It’s progressed past simple camaraderie, whatnot with how he goes out of his way to spend almost every waking minute by Robin’s side, under the guise of discussing strategies for the next battle, tending to wounds (Lissa scoffs so loud at this that even Maribelle looks scandalized), cooking, doing inventory of their armory, and – he’s braver now – bathing.

And if _Frederick_ can pick up on it, he knows he’s being too obvious and in over his head.

So he takes the plunge, during one of their discussions in his tent, and tells Robin how important he is to him.  How Robin just understands him without him saying anything.  How amazing he is, on and off the battlefield, despite his lack of memories.  Like how they’re two halves of a whole, and he doesn’t think he can ever find someone who can replace him in this life.

Robin looks down at the map they’d been perusing, cheekbones dusted pink.

“Thank you, Chrom,” he says quietly, still not looking him in the eye.  “I do, too—”

Chrom hears the ‘but’ all too clearly.

“—I – you – _we_ have so much at stake here.  The future of Ylisse is on your shoulders.  Of  course I’m terribly honoured that you have chosen me to stand by your side as your closest and confidant despite my questionable background.  But that should be the extent of my involvement – as your Tactician, and nothing more.  I don’t want to complicate things,” the corners of Robin’s eyes crinkle, and he wills his emotions to calm, “Ylisse needs you and a future heir for the days to come.  I can’t jeopardize your kingdom for my own selfish gains.”

“Not even when my own happiness rides upon it?” Chrom whispers.

Robin smiles, sad but determined, finally looking up.  “Maybe in another lifetime, when we’re not bound by obligations and stations.  You are, after all, no longer simply your own man.”

He gets it, really, but it’s hard to hear it out loud and _really get_ it.  He takes a shuddering breath.

“Promise me, Chrom, that this won’t change anything.”

His laugh is short, bitter.  “I can’t promise that.”

“Then at least promise me that you’ll marry someone better, be a respectable king, and I’ll fight to the end with you.”

“There _won’t_ be anyone better—”

Robin silences him, feathery light lips against his.  “Please don’t make it harder than it already is, Chrom,” then leaves him alone to his thoughts.

He has his army – the entire _country_ – to look after.

But he’ll just have this one, small indulgence, of knowing that Robin feels the same.


End file.
